Send in the Clowns
by Luna-Kitsune-Blu
Summary: What is this? Daxter has been returned to his oringal, elfie state? What in Haven city have I been smoking!


The Almighty Author: Okay, all. Tis been a good while since I ventured into the lands of Jak fandom with any fics of my own, so here's some random crap from a rusty writer.

Disclaimer: I do not own or pretend to be responsible in any way to the creation of the Jak games (-coughcough-ESPECIALLYTHENEWCRAPRACINGONEWHICHIWILLNODOUBTPLAYREGARDLESS-coughcoughcough-). I also realize that there's no way in hell, heaven or Haven City that Daxter could return to his original, dorky elf-ie form. This is all in good fun, so no flamesplsthax

-.-.-.-.-

The morning was unusually clear for one being found in the toxic dump known as Haven City. The smog created by the city's horrid pollution via basically everything had dissipated ever so slightly, changing the atmosphere of the duo's surroundings from its usual musty yellow to an almost clear sliver.

Still smelled like shit, but you can't win them all.

Regardless of the happy-go-lucky, ironically accurate lighting change or the fresh smell of yakkow manure lofting up from Mar knows where, Daxter's sunny mood couldn't possibly be dampened. As he trotted happily beside his taller partner, his step had a special little bounce to it and he hummed a tune to himself, almost skipping his way across the slimy pavement.

Even Jak's comment about his new walking style making him look like a fruit-loop hardly fazed him. Didn't save his buddy from a nice whack upside the head, though…

As the two reached the newly refurnished _Naughty Ottsel_, Daxter's mood hit a crescendo. He had waited for this moment for a long time, and here, right then, it was staring him the face. Well, technically, seeing as a certain, gigantic, furry orange mug very similar to his own was wagging a good 15 feet above his head, one could say the moment was _literally_ staring him in the face, but we won't because that would make this sentence a terribly long run-on from Hell.

"You ready, Dax?" his friend asked, placing a large gloved hand on his shoulder.

Daxter smiled wickedly. "Hellz yeah, baby."

With that, the redhead turned and dramatically kicked open the door to his new bar with his foot. He, as well as The Almighty Author, then quickly remembered that this door, as well as just about any other door in the city, did not swing open, but indeed '_swooosh_'-ed in sideways, and he let out a cry of pain and began hopping up and down, clutching his wounded foot. Rolling his eyes at both his friends and The (lazy) Almighty Author's blunder, Jak walked in front of the motion sensor near the edge of the door.

The door '_swooosh_'-ed to the side, revealing the inside of the pub to the two companions, one of which was still doing what The Almighty Author has graciously dubbed the 'OWMYF-KINGTOEEEE' dance. Upon seeing the new arrivals, the patrons seated inside offered up a welcome as the pair entered.

Daxter, having recovered from his little spastic attack, couldn't help but grin upon seeing who all filled up his bar. His plan had worked quite nicely; everyone had showed. Ashelin and Torn sat in one of the center tables that were arranged where the boxing ring used to be, maps scattered everywhere, no doubt bickering about the best place to start remodeling. He made a mental note to remind them exactly how much like a married couple that were acting, preferably a comment involving the word 'honeymoon'. Sig had plopped down on one of the bar stools parallel from the door, a mug of what looked suspiciously like some of _Daxter's_ Purple Stuff in his hand. His poopsie-bear was taking the morning's inventory and looking smexy as usual behind the counter. A tuft of green-blue hair and what could only be described as a small log could be seen poking up from the last booth, that of course being Keira and her father, Sage of Useless, chatting about the usual: quantum physics, the theory of relativity and the gaping plot hole both her and Daxter's mothers fell though before the start of the first game.

"Hey, Jak," Ashelin said, looking up after hearing the '_swooosh_' indicating his entrance. She did a double take upon seeing Daxter at his side, smiling slightly as she took him in the second time. "Who's your friend?" she asked, motioning to him.

Everyone in the room took a collective sip of their morning beverage of choice, all eyes on him.

"I'm hurt, doll-face," Daxter replied, placing a hand over his heart. "Have you forgotten me already?"

For a moment everyone just stared, then…

"PHFFEEWW!"

…alcohol, coffee, what he hoped to be milk accompanied by some other random half chewed food (pancakes, I believe) was sprayed all up in his general direction.

"Okay," he said, a disgusted look crossing his face as he tried to shake the regurgitated food and drink stuffs off of his clothing, "gross."

"DAXTER!" Keira cried, shooting up from the booth.

"In the flesh, baby."

"B-but HOW!" the new baroness cut in.

There was an awkward silence.

"I'unno," he replied plainly, shrugging his shoulders.

Everyone in the room continued to gape.

Oh, and they had quite a lot to gape at, too. If some of you haven't figured it out yet, although I don't see how you couldn't have seeing as the answer had been flat out handed to you in the summary, Daxter had ceased to be an Ottsel but instead had randomly reverted back into his broom topped, red haired, long and lengthy elf-ie self. At some point, of course, his elf body had hit puberty without him around to be in it and now the short, buck-toothed child we all knew and loved for like three minutes from the first game had been reborn into a slightly less dorky, perfect teethed young, well-built, smexy man.

Scream, you fangirls, scream.

None of this, though, answered any of the group's growing number of questions, so let's return to the conversation at hand.

"You don't KNOW!"

"Naw," Daxter shrugged again before striking a dramatic pose. "It was just as if some divine power saw fit to return me to my former glory."

.-.-.-.-.-.

Somewhere in America, The Almighty Author shifted awkwardly in her seat and coughed.

.-.-.-.-.-.

"Yeah, well," Jak said, interrupting, "your 'divine power' owes me a new drawer. Your 'return to former glory' broke the one you used to sleep in and now I have no where to keep my pants."

.-.-.-.-.-.

Again, back in America, The Almighty Author shifted in her seat awkwardly and coughed.

.-.-.-.-.-.

"Ah," Daxter sighed, hands in the pockets of the jeans he was now wearing, "pants. How I have missed thee."

Everyone in the _Ottsel_ shifted their weight awkwardly and coughed.

"Okay," Samos cut in randomly. "That joke's getting old."

Samos was then randomly mauled by the termites residing in his log.

"…Riiiight," Torn said as he picked up his table and scooted it away from the flailing sage. "Anywho, who really cares? You're an elf or whatever the hell the rest of us are again, big whoop." The commander sauntered over casually and looked the 'boy turned Ottsel turned back to boy again' up and down before giving Daxter his personally directed scowl. "I actually think the rat form was an improvement."

"THAT'S-AGHHH-WHAT I-OHDEARPRECURSERS!-TOLD HIM!" Samos screamed/agreed. After a moment of silence, everyone took Torn's lead and scooted away from the now maimed old fart.

As Torn continued to glare at Daxter, he noticed that the teen had yet to come back with a witty response to his insults. He said as much. Daxter continued to stare at him with an almost triumphant grin plastered across his face "It's cuz I'm taller than you," Daxter replied.

Again, silence.

"Well," Tess chimed, breaking the silence, "I believe this calls for a celebration, right snooky-doodle?" The orange-head blushed before nodding.

"FREE BEER FOR ALL!" He bellowed. A cheer rang out as everyone stampeded towards the bar, pouring out whatever their mugs had previously held onto the floor as they went. Through the chaos of drunkards, Tess emerged and, grabbing her boyfriend's hands lovingly, directed him to the backroom, all the while looking sexy.

"I have something I want to show you," the blonde explained, pulling Daxter to a stool, which he sat on. She then proceeded to bend down and nibble on his new elf-ie ear, making the boy giggle with pleasure. "Close your eyes," she instructed in a breathy voice before running her hands over his eyelids, bringing them down for him.

As Daxter heard Tess' footsteps as she walked away, he couldn't help but laugh to himself giddily. _Finally!_ He thought, clenching his fists in triumph. _Now I, Daxter, _the _Orange Lightening, will get to be in a lemon with someone _besides_ Jak! I'm so happy._ He then proceeded to cry anime waterfall tears.

"Okay, snuckums," came Tess's voice. "You can look now."

Daxter bit his lip. _Please be something leather, please be something leather, please be something leather!_

His eyes shot open to see…

A clown!

"AAAAH!" the redhead screamed, falling backwards in his chair.

"Do you not like it, bubbsley-bear?" the clown asked. As it reached down to help him up, he let out another horrified screech and scurried out of the room on all fours and back into the main barroom only to be stopped by something very big and pink.

"Whoa, where's the fire, Chilly-Pepper?" asked the blob of faded red. Looking up, Daxter found he had run from one evil into the arms of another. In front of him stood an equally terrifying clown, complete with a multi-color afro atop its hideous head. "You okay there, Chilly-Pepper?" the clown asked, reaching out a white glove to help him onto his feet. The no-longer-Ottsel recoiled back.

"Keep your clown cooties away from me!" he screamed, scrambling around the creature and making a break for the door.

Suddenly, his path was blocked by another round-red-nose wearing crime against Mar and nature. "Whoa, Dax, slow down," it said.

"Yeah, take a load off and stay a while, why don'tcha," insisted another behind Daxter.

He was cornered he realized. There was no where else to run. He was going to _die_ via clowns!

…Mar, that would suck…

"NO!" Daxter screamed, waving his hands around his face for protection as the clowns advanced. "No, no, no, no, NOOO! I don't _wanna_ die via clowns!"

"One of us. One of us!" the clowns chanted, pulling and prodding the broom-haired boy. He let out one final scream of agony before being fully engulfed in the swarm of clowny-death.

.-.-.-.-.-.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Daxter sat up straight in his bed/Jak's pants drawer, panting like he had just been running from that evil spider thing in Mar's temple all over again. After taking a look around to make sure there were no clowns about, he let out a sigh and collapsed back onto his pillow.

"Let me guess," Jak said from his bed across from the Ottsel's. "It was the dream about the ice cream man again."

"Oh Mar, I wish," the furry orange rodent whined, running a hand through the fur on the top of his head. "It was the one where I turned back into myself."

"Ah." His friend nodded in understanding. "And then we all turn into ninjas?"

"No, it was clowns this time."

"Yikes. You poor bastard."


End file.
